


The Forgotten

by dearwhimsy



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearwhimsy/pseuds/dearwhimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had gotten his name wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forgotten

It had gotten his name wrong.

Bilbo laid the book back down and forced himself not to scream.

Bungo Rollins. Bungo the Burglar. Bungo the Traitor.

He had given up his home for theirs, given up his peace and comfort and many times nearly his life. And the books couldn't even get his bloody name right. Bilbo sneered down at the book. The wrong name all two times it had even bothered mentioning him at all.

_A burglar by the name of 'Bungo Rollins' was added to the Company to keep it from being an unlucky Thirteen._

_'Bungo Rollins' left after the battle, never to return._

Almost a year of his life, reduced to these two lines. It was if he'd not really been a part of it at all.

In that moment, Bilbo desired nothing more then to dig out Sting and hack the offending book into so much kindling. Wanted to storm back to Erebor and demand at sword point for them to fix it. To give him the credit that he was due, be it good or bad. He wanted his scars to be written out on paper as well as skin.

Bilbo touched false name on the page. Once it would not have mattered to him. Once he had been nothing more than a Hobbit living a comfortable life in his comfy Hole, caring little of what others thought of him so long as they did not bother him. Then came a wizard and thirteen dwarves seeking home. Then came adventure and war and joy and grief. Then came that damn Arkenstone.

He bit his lip viciously. He wouldn't regret it. Bilbo refused to. He had known what he was doing after all, knew what it had meant to them and what it had meant to him and he would not regret it. He would have sacrificed all of Erebor if it had been necessary. He would not regret it because it had worked. He did not lose a single one of his dwarves.

Except in all the ways that he  _had_.

He shoved the book away, hardly able to bear its presence any longer. He stood from his chair and began to pace back and forth, thoughts heavy and bitter upon his mind.

Was there any other method that could have conveyed how little they now thought of their former companion? Could they have chosen a more definitive way to demonstrate how much they despised his very existence? How much they must hate him? Him! Him who loved them so dear that he had sacrificed everything, even himself? He loved them and they hate him! Here was proof of it! They hated him so much that they could not even bear to remember him in their histories by his actual name. They hated him, hated him,  _hated him_.

He stumbled back to his chair, unable to stand any longer; buried his face in his hands and _wept._

They _hated_ him. They had not forgiven him. It was a truth that he could no longer deny.

The secret hope he'd scarcely allowed himself to think withered away. There would be no ravens at his windowsill nor dwarves at his doorstep carrying a message welcoming him back. Instead, here, in this detested book was their final message for him.

_Bungo left after the battle, never to return._

Bilbo drew in a shuddering breath and forced himself to stop his tears. Enough. Enough already. The dwarves were as immovable in their grudges as their mountain. He had wept enough tears for something that could not be changed.

Slowly, he picked the book up one last time, gaze tracing the sentence that had so pained him once more before closing its pages and putting the book away in the bottom drawer. With numb fingers and a weary heart, he locked away their last words to him.

Do not come back.

 

 

 


End file.
